


Sixth Sense

by CallousHeartz



Category: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Album), My Chemical Romance, The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Comic)
Genre: F/F, First Meetings, Making Out, Zone Parties, welcome to the ‘can you tell a lesbian wrote this’ challenge 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-14
Updated: 2019-05-14
Packaged: 2020-03-05 14:36:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18830668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CallousHeartz/pseuds/CallousHeartz
Summary: “so, you’re a DJ?”





	Sixth Sense

**Author's Note:**

> i’m gay and sleep deprived and i have nothing more to say  
> Soph xo

NewsAGoGo has a sixth sense.

That's why you don't _invite_ her places - there's no need.

News will _know._

She’ll _know_ , and she’ll turn up. Six minutes late.  
Every time without fail.

This party's no exception to the rule. 

News doesn't have the slightest clue who the host might be, who this house even belongs to, (if anyone) but their sofa isn't half bad. Slumped against the armrest with her legs stretched out in front, torn neon green tights clashing with the weathered brown fabric, she glances over her shoulder. 

Those dudes in the corner have been making out for ten solid minutes. Apparently they don't need to stop for breath.

 _Droids, probably,_ News lifts the bottle, glass warming under her palm by now, to her mouth and takes a drawn-out sip. _Droids don't have lungs._  
The rim of the bottle's stained with matte green lipstick as she reaches down to place it on the scratched up floor.

News isn't usually this bored at parties, but, bluntly put, this night's something close to a disappointment. 

Her heel knocks the bottle as she hops off the sofa.  
_It's chill,_ she reminds herself. _Certainly ain't the worst spillage in this house tonight._

It's then that News realises she hasn't fulfilled her party tradition: the one where she finds out what's behind every door in the house. Well, the ones that aren't locked or marked with a hastily written up "DO NOT DISTURB" sign, anyway.

She heads upstairs, and all the lights are off. It's hard to keep quiet wearing boots like hers, each sole weighing roughly the same as a small boulder, and the regular clatter of the chains on her belt against the zips and buckles on her black skirt doesn't exactly work in her favour. 

It all happens at once: as News' fingers collide with a conveniently placed lightswitch, her face collides with someone’s shoulder. 

News stumbles back, cursing and apologising, ready to turn and head downstairs _right this fucking second._

But the silvery new voice haults her in her very tracks.

"No worries..."

As News gathers her thoughts and steps back, she finds herself stuck right where she's standing. A thousand expletives cloud her brain, but nothing, _thank Witch_ , leaves her mouth.

"Cute lipstick."

The girl's own bubblegum pink lips crack a smile; her honey blonde hair spills over her shoulders, exposed by the straps of her baby pink PVC mini dress.

It's not that News doesn't know how to respond to compliments. It's just that, at this very moment, she's, uh... kind of forgotten.

"Oh..." A smile tugging at her features, News leans back against the banister. She lifts her chin so that their eyes meet as she replies, "I could say the same for yours."

Stepping towards the banister, the blonde girl sidles up to News.  
The scent of cheap bodyspray lingers on her, reminding News of something else. She's not sure what that 'something else' is, but maybe a little moment longer will jog her memory. 

"You from 'round here, then?" The girl asks, twirling a wave of hair around her shimmery stilleto nail, "I don't feel like I've seen you before,"

"I ain't usually too far from here," News replies, stretching a fishnet-covered arm out just enough for her elbow to brush the girl's bicep.

As the girl edges her arm subtly closer, News thinks she sees her bite her lip. 

Just for a second. 

Somewhere downstairs, a new song starts up. It's a pop punk track News vaguely recognises.

"Ugh, this song's following me _everywhere_ ," The girl laughs, tipping her head back. She closes her eyes and begins to sway her head gently as she continues, "I get _sooo_ many requests for this one on my show. Tumbleweeds ringing in to ask for it every time it finishes,"

She starts humming to the song, acrylic nails drumming the banister in time to the music, and News feels a kick within herself like now is the time. 

Now is her chance.

"So," She murmurs, glancing up at the stranger from beneath her lashes, heavy and spiked with mascara, "You're a DJ?"

The blonde girl hums a "yes", shoulder raised coyly as her bright eyes flit very obviously over News.

"Well, DJ," News swallows and takes a breath. Her hands are getting clammy and her lips are feeling dry beneath their coat of waxy lipstick, but she's not letting this opportunity fly out the window.  
"D'you know how to dance?"

News feels a nervous current rush through her veins, and she swallows again. 

_Has she caught the hint? Is she on the same wavelength? Does she..._

And then the girl's pretty nails come forward, and she's guiding a strand of News' hair that's come free from her space buns behind her heavily pierced ear, and _yes, she's caught the hint._

News resists the urge to giggle as the girl steps closer and whispers, tone like summer evenings wrapped in champagne satin, "I'll know if you teach me how,"

Then her arms are draped around News' neck, and News slides her hands over her hips, lined so perfectly by that bodycon dress.

They're moving, sure, but the far-away song rests on neither of their minds.

"I wonder how I’d look with green lipstick," DJ girl remarks eventually, fingertip skimming over the clasp of News' spiked choker.

At the same low volume, News replies, “I wonder how I’d look with pink.”

The blonde girl's back hits the nearest door as News' lips plunge into hers'.  
Her fingers roam over News' back; her touch is soft and her breath tastes like violet candy. As her hand comes to rest on News’ studded belt, and News' teeth graze her bottom lip, she exhales lightly.

When they part, News leans her head on the door beside DJ girl's, a smile shared between them.

"Anyway," She breathes, "What's the name of your radio show?"


End file.
